


Remedies and Friends

by dedougal



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-28
Updated: 2012-10-28
Packaged: 2017-11-17 06:24:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/548575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dedougal/pseuds/dedougal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anchors are important. And sometimes anchors can change.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Remedies and Friends

**Author's Note:**

  * For [brokentoy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/brokentoy/gifts).



> For the amazing, all round lovely brokentoy's birthday. And also for the prompt "Knows me better than I know myself" on my Cotton Candy bingo.

1\. Erica

Derek stood at the front of the group and swallowed as the chimera shimmered in front of them in a half amazing and half sickening display. It didn’t – or couldn’t - hold form for any length of time. She had to tamp down on the urge to throw up and she was desperate to shift and tear it apart. It was fundamentally wrong, didn’t deserve to exist. Erica had to dig deep, find her anger at everyone who’d said something similar about her to cling onto her human form.

It didn’t ask to be born like that.

Derek seemed to be having the same kind of problem, his fingernails thickening and darkening. He flung out his hand trying to regain control and his palm landed flat on Stiles’ shirt. His hand curled, wrinkling the plaid, but no claws tore the ugly ass shirt to shreds. Derek’s heaving chest seemed to slow, lessen. “Get out of town,” he ordered.

The chimera shimmered one more time, feathers rippling over scales in a variety of lurid colours. Erica tamped down on her stomach again. She could see Isaac’s throat rippling and hoped it would go away before any of them lost their lunch.

“There are hunters here,” Derek said. His shoulders loosened, eased from their tight line. He still had his hand curled in Stiles’ shirt, although his thumb seemed to be inscribing small circles in the material. Erica focused on that rather than the creature in front of them. She was focusing on Derek stroking Stiles.

Okay. That was weird. And also made all kinds of sense. She’d need to think more about this. Meantime, the chimera made one more noise from a throat that really shouldn’t work and then turned and scurried into the woods, away from them, away from Beacon Hills. Turned out someone could take a telling.

Derek let go of Stiles and rubbed absently at his hand before stuffing it into his pocket. They all let out a sigh of relief before heading back to the cars.

 

2\. Isaac

They shouldn’t be sneaking into the locker rooms after hours but they’ve all pretty much made a career out of sneaking into places where they shouldn’t be. Isaac’s aware that half of his urge to be where he shouldn’t be is bravado. Erica just pushes everyone aside and, well, he doesn’t want to be weaker than a girl. Boyd rolls his eyes on a regular basis but he follows her too. The addition of Scott, Allison, Lydia, Jackson and Stiles is new. Not new new. But they’d spent so much time glaring at each other across an invisible dividing line that the tentative friendship that was springing up, the links, that was new.

It was all Erica’s idea. They needed somewhere to hang out and she’d led them a merry dance after they’d played a weird lacrosse game that was half wolf and wholly cheating. They’d ended up sprawled around the room that smelled a little too much of that sweat drenched sneaker left in the rain too long. No one seemed to care, warming up after the chill of the night. Stiles even elaborately produced a bottle of whiskey that he seemed happy enough to pass between Lydia and Allison and then reclaim for himself.

Isaac half-wished he’d gotten drunk when he’d been human but he hadn’t and there were Dad based reasons that he didn’t want to excavate and instead he took up staring at the others and trying not to be too obvious about asking Scott about how he coped with the urge to murder everyone – especially Stiles – in the days leading up to the full moon. Scott had his head in Allison’s lap and was happy enough to answer, though.

That was when the shots rang out. “Wolfsbane!” Boyd yelled as they flung themselves to the ground, meagre shelter under benches and behind lockers.

The shots rang out again, shattering against locker doors, bending metal and sparking off the tiles, ceramic showering down on them. Isaac could smell the pungent stench of wolfsbane now, knowing they’d be helpless if it hit them. A soft “fuck fuck fuck” from across the room drew his attention to Stiles whose heartbeat was reaching panic level proportions. Full on freak out. Stiles’ breathing was shallow and way too fast and he looked suddenly pale. As if he was going into some kind of shock. Isaac wasn’t sure what to do – dash across the space? Avoid the bullets zinging between them. 

Stiles fumbled at his jeans and dragged his phone out. Isaac hoped (dreaded?) that he was calling his dad but he picked up Stiles’ voice over another hail of bullets. “Derek? Derek? We’re in the locker room. There’s hunters. They’ve-“ Stiles pulled the phone from his ear and stared at it as it went dark. “They’ve got wolfsbane bullets and crappy aim,” Stiles told the inactive cell. But his heartbeat steadied much like his breathing. 

“We can sneak out through the showers, flank them?” Boyd had rolled up close to him, speaking directly into his ear.

“Need a distraction,” Isaac said, trying to work out how many guns he could hear. “Derek’s on his way.”

“Stiles called him, right?” Boyd rolled his eyes again. Maybe this wasn’t the time for his brand of cynicism. Then Isaac was struck. Stiles hated Derek. Or at least he said he did on a regular basis. So why was he the one he was calling first? He looked across to see Stiles hiding his head in his arms against the wood splintering off the bench above him.

“Distraction?” Isaac glanced round the room, eyes landing on the bucket of lacrosse balls on top of the bench he was sheltering above. He reached up with a long arm and pulled it down. Then he grabbed one out and slung it, hard, in the direction of the gunfire which stuttered. He followed it up with another and was pleased to hear the sound of the hard ball hitting soft flesh. “Go. Get the others.” Boyd’s warmth was gone as Isaac kept slinging the balls, as fast and as hard as he could. Then there was a roar from outside the room and the gunfire tailed off, stopped firing into the room, and Isaac flung himself up to catch Derek knocking one of the black clad men against the wall, stunning him into unconsciousness.

 

3\. Scott

It’s Allison’s idea. Allison has good ideas, like, most of the time, but Scott’s not sure that this is one of those. He wanted to see this action movie about alien scientists and so did Stiles and so did Allison. Because she said she wanted him to spend more time with Stiles and they were dating and this seemed like a plan. She said he should say to Stiles to invite Derek.

“But Stiles hates Derek. And I think Derek hates Stiles.” Scott was finding the whole thing a little confusing. He was getting better with the whole idea of pack and accepting Derek as his alpha, especially since Derek wasn’t being such an enormous dick about it. And he liked Isaac and Boyd had this weird sense of humour. Something felt more right when he hung around with them. But Stiles was his bro and he needed to have Stiles time and between work and school and Allison and his mom… Man.

Allison was smiling at him, like he was sweet, so he’d take that. “No, they don’t.”

Scott shrugged and didn’t think too much more about it. He did say to Stiles in passing during lunch the next day. But Allison was being supercute with her hair and her whole Allison thing and he mostly ignored Stiles’ squawk. That was Stiles.

And now the idea was planted, Scott had this epiphany. Of course Stiles liked Derek. He’d stopped suggesting murder and also getting him arrested. He’d listened to Derek when Derek told them what to do during the Peter Incident. He was the one who texted and called Derek. Derek was always in Stiles’ room.

And Stiles had asked Danny whether he was attractive to gay guys. And there was the drag queens. Who had made Stiles go shopping with him. They’d made him bring Lydia too. And Stiles hadn’t spent days reciting everything Lydia had done like he was over her. Oh god. Stiles liked Derek now. Scott could be totally cool with this.

 

Derek showed up at the movie theatre like he didn’t know why he was there, fists in the pockets of his leather jacket and a scowl on his face. But he’d sat next to Stiles and eaten, like, two thirds of the popcorn.

Scott had to remember that Allison had the best ideas.

 

4\. Boyd

Derek should fucking kiss Stiles already. It might stop him being such a pissy bastard.

 

5\. Derek

“Finding your anchor is the only way to control the change.” Derek sometimes found it hard to believe that he had to continually have these conversations.

“But, yeah, what if your anchor changes?” Erica was avoiding his eyes which meant she had something else on her mind.

“I don’t think that’s going to happen.” Derek knew there must have been a time when he used something other than anger to anchor his changes. When he’d been young and stupidly naïve, he used his family. But, then, being a werewolf hadn’t seemed so life and death. It had just been something he and they were. And there were always the cells under the house for when he was struggling.

Scott was sprawled in a chair at the dining table while Stiles poured over some homework. His apartment had turned into finals study central. Derek definitely didn’t miss school. “I use Allison.”

“We all know you ‘use’ Allison,” Stiles muttered around the pencil in his mouth. It made his lips purse out, like he would if he was ready to kiss someone, made his mouth slick and red. “That sounded less wrong in my head.”

Derek narrowed his eyes at Stiles and watched him wrinkle his nose and shrug before he went back to his books. Or to Scott’s book. Stiles had finished ages ago and was being the best friend in the entire world. Even Isaac had backed out of this one to play some kind of racing game on Derek’s ancient TV.

Erica prodded at his leg. “But anchors can change? Right? Like yours.”

“Mine hasn’t changed.” Derek swung back to look at her. Erica was looking at him with a strange expression. Then she flung up her hands. 

“I’m getting snacks. For me.” She pointedly ignored the waves from the rest of the people in the room. Derek pushed up. He had chips for everyone and should hand them round before Erica ate them all. He ended up at the table, guarding the bag so that the humans – or Stiles – had a chance against some ravenous werewolves. Stiles pressed his knee against Derek’s in thanks as he handed Scott back his book, covered in pencil underlining.

 

6\. Stiles

Stiles was pretty used to finding werewolves in his bedroom. Werewolf. Singular. Derek. This was not Derek. This was everyone but Derek.

Even Lydia was here. On his bed. Which was… something that Stiles wasn’t quite as excited about as he’d expected.

“This is an intervention,” Scott said. He was rocking on his feet, which meant he was feeling uncomfortable and also determined. Behind him, Jackson let out a snort. Scott glared at him but when he turned back to Stiles, he stood with his mouth open. Then Scott flapped his arms at the others.

Isaac scrubbed his hands on his jeans. “You need to man up and ask Derek out. Or just kiss him.”

“Or I could ask to get my throat ripped out. By his big and pointy teeth.” Stiles threw his backpack towards the corner of his desk, not so accidentally hitting Jackson with it. “Now get out.”

Scott stepped forward. “We just want the best for you. For you both. And we’ve all talked about it.”

“Thank you. For that excruciating admission. Now get out.” Stiles opened the door wide and pointed out. There was a moment where everyone froze like some tableau and then they all looked at each other and shrugged and seemed to communicate the general thought of 'at least we tried'. They started shuffling past until his room stopped being so crowded and felt more like his space again. Not some kind of all access hideout. “And I want your key back, McCall!”

Stiles slammed the door shut and sat down with his back against it. It wouldn’t stop a determined werewolf but it gave him enough peace of mind to get his thoughts in order. He could hear the pack troop downstairs and then the front door closing. Him and Derek? Whatever they were smoking, Stiles wished it worked on him. Maybe if he drank enough, he’d be able to block out this entire thing.

His window shoved up and he looked up to see Derek climbing through. Something inside him – his chest, his gut, something – settled. “Thank whatever you’re here. Your pack has gone crazy.”

Derek stood silent and uncomfortable for a moment before Stiles pushed up off the floor. That put him close to Derek in the suddenly too small room. It hadn’t felt that small when everyone else was in here. Now it seemed like Derek had sucked all the air out. Like he was the only… A sudden image of Derek on his bed, sprawled out like Lydia had been came to mind.

“I know.” Derek was staring, like he was trying to pin Stiles against the door with only the strength of his glare. Stiles could tell him that wasn’t working. He’d need to use his hands. His body. Pressed up against Stiles, all hard and warm and…nice smelling. “I could hear them.”

“They’re wrong. So wrong. Whole world of wrong.” Stiles couldn’t move.

Derek came closer. It was like he couldn’t help himself either. “They think you’re my anchor.”

“Bzzzz. Thanks for playing.” Stiles’ joke fell flat. He could feel his pulse speeding up and from the glance Derek threw at his neck, there was no way he missed that either. “So do I get an anchor too?”

“To help you control your inner werewolf?” Derek was closer again. Ninja like. Bastard.

“Yeah. Guess I wouldn’t need one.” Stiles tried to sound casual but he could smell Derek now and it was this mix of leather and dirt and spice and the woods and Stiles could feel the pit of his stomach rolling over.

Derek and he were basically breathing in each others' air now. “Everyone… My mom used to say everyone needs an anchor. To keep them going.”

Then they were kissing. Derek’s lips were soft under his, his mouth gentle despite the scratch of stubble. He was holding Stiles, hands curled around his upper arms, but it wasn’t a grip or a threat. It was the sort of hold that spoke of care and content and never wanting to let go. Stiles curled one of his hands in Derek’s hair, trembling with the whole idea of being able to touch. They were almost equal in height, perfectly matched.

Derek pressed forward, closer. Stiles maybe had something to do with that with the whole way his other hand had found its way to the small of Derek’s back. He parted his lips and Derek’s tongue dipped inside, muting the groan Stiles was letting out. 

Stiles ignored the faint sound of cheering he heard through his open window and widened his stance, letting Derek slide his thigh between his legs. They should talk about this whole anchor thing. And the fact they were making out like they’d been doing this for years. Later. Derek broke the kiss to skim his mouth over Stiles’ jaw, nip at this spot just below his ear.

Much, much later.


End file.
